


Acutely obtuse love triangles

by JustDanny



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: F/M, Jules can be as obtuse as any of the boys, Shawn is a good good friend, also way to spoil a perfectly good reveal, because they're all children at heart, nonsensical plots and schemes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:40:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28835013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustDanny/pseuds/JustDanny
Summary: The one where Juliet is willfully obtuse, Shawn is a seducer, and Gus is awful at tricking his friends.Also: denying the obvious doesn't work out all that well. Enter one Shawn Spencer, matchmaker supreme, and his beautifully laid out plan to get two headstrong detectives together.
Relationships: Carlton Lassiter/Juliet O'Hara, Carlton Lassiter/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 7





	Acutely obtuse love triangles

It all started around Christmas. 

Juliet had been working with Lassiter for more than three years — long enough to know better than to let the shitshow that had been that O’Hara family gathering repeat itself, but also not to want him to spend the holidays completely alone. For crying out loud: as far as she knew, his plans for Christmas Eve involved studiously ignoring his mother’s calls and gazing longingly at pictures of his ex-wife. He was an expert at wallowing in self-pity, and had been honing his skills for weeks, getting ready to be particularly miserable and to make everyone around him wish for a gallon of eggnog.

So, being as she was a good partner, she decided the one logical course of action was to get him to go out, if only for an evening, right before she had to fly away for the holidays. She’d tried to recruit both Shawn and Gus for a buffer, and though the former had promptly and happily agreed - which in all probability meant she’d end up paying for everything -, the latter had quickly found an excuse. Something about a Central Coast Christmas party. Honestly, Juliet wasn’t even sure he still worked there.

In any case, things had started off surprisingly civilized. But for a slightly dirty look, Carlton had been mostly nice to Shawn, who in turn hadn’t humiliated her partner more than a couple of times. They looked, she thought, almost like a group of friends meeting for a drink right before Christmas. It felt nice; which, of course, meant that it couldn’t really last.

Juliet had learnt at a very early age to treasure each and every happy moment in her life, just in case whoever was in it turned out to be a liar, a conman, or a murderer further down the road. So she took the chance to talk even faster than usual, laugh out loud and even try and get Carlton to dance with her. She didn’t succeed, of course - he wasn’t nearly drunk enough; and, in any case, this is a _pub_ , O’Hara-, but he was smiling at her when Shawn offered to take his place, blue eyes twinkling in amusement at the psychic’s exaggerated gestures. They were, she thought, having _fun_. All of them.

And then, disaster.

The girl - young, so inappropriately young - was nice-looking. Not a beauty, though; also, she didn’t know how to pull off a suit. Juliet did: she made it look natural, feminine, formally informal and _cute_. It gave her an aura of power and respectability. On that other girl, though, it looked like a costume, like she was trying to dress up as a sexy secretary, or a Republican congressman; or a mix of both. Still, she moved with confidence, perfectly white teeth showing as she laughed good-naturedly at something Carlton was telling her.

It was suspicious, to say the least.

She wasn’t the only one to believe so: her partner was still frowning when Shawn and Juliet made their way back to their now invaded booth. Alright, maybe the frown wasn’t exactly directed at the newcomer. Not that Juliet cared: she’d learnt to ignore even the most Lassiterian of glares, and to counter with a bright, disarming smile. She overdid herself for the sake of making a point: nobody could have resisted her at that moment. And, true enough, the suited up girl gulped, waved and made a move to stand. Jules smiled _wider_.

“Hey, Jules, why don’t we— ?” 

Ignoring Shawn completely, she plopped down next to her partner and nodded in the intruder’s direction.

“Hi! I’m Juliet. Nice to meet you, ehm…” She only had to wait for a second before the girl broke, her pretty face suddenly sweaty, nervous.

“Oh, ehm, it’s Lena.” She had an accent, though Juliet couldn’t quite place it. Yet. 

She also had beautiful green eyes, and a small scar next to her upper lip, and she looked all-around nice and normal, which was very obviously _not_ normal. “And, it’s nice to meet you, too. I was just… leaving.”

“You really don’t have to—”

“It’s fine, Carlton. I should probably get going anyway.” With a second gulp and a shaky, teeth-showing smile, she stood up. Before leaving, though, she got out a piece of paper, quickly scribbled something on it, and handed it to Lassiter. “Call me, will you? I’d like to hear the end of the story.”

Seeing her awestruck partner’s face, Juliet found herself frowning a bit. She promised herself she’d investigate that number: the whole business smelled rotten to her. Carlton was way too easily taken by a nice - or even not that nice, she thought cruelly - pair of— Well, that. She should probably make sure he didn’t get his hopes up: that Lena, she told herself, looked like a real piece of work.

***

  
Juliet mostly forgot about the episode for the next few days. She’d taken two weeks off: her brothers had insisted on celebrating the O’Hara’s family Christmas at Josh’s, which meant travelling, preparing herself to deal with her least favourite sister-in-law, and trying to find a gift cool enough to get her back in the good graces of her now pre-adolescent nephews.

She called Carlton a couple of times while she was out of town, checking on him and making sure he was adequately brooding and bored, and that he too, sort of, missed her. In the middle of the second week she also called Shawn and found some time in between their harmless flirting back and forth to ask him to keep an eye on Carlton. He then very cryptically responded that surely someone was already making sure he got into the Christmas’ spirit, if you know what I mean.

“Not that I’d know anything about it,” he assured her. “But the spirits get quite restless at this time of the year, and they seem particularly excited at having good-old Lassafrass doing the horizontal mambo again. They think it’d help him forgive my not-very-well-received Christmas gift this year. Do you think he’ll wear the tie?”

She managed to squeak an answer somehow - ‘it’s got elfs on it, so no’ -, but just barely. From then on, up until her planned return on day 16, she found herself a bit on edge, almost as restless as Shawn’s spirits.

***

Juliet called him from the airport. She’d meant to get a cab, but it was late and it was going to be expensive, and also she was in the mood for a good, fat-filled burger. She really needed to compensate for the inhuman quantities of kale and quinoa she’d been forced to eat those two weeks. 

It went straight to voicemail, though, and her heart sank a little bit. She tried once more; this time, he picked up, sounding slightly out of breath and very much not like he was also craving half-cooked meat. Still, he promised he’d be there in half an hour; Juliet could hear a higher pitched voice in the background she wisely chose to ignore.

So, she told herself, maybe he had agreed to go to his mother’s after all. She was probably giving him the chance he needed to get away: he’d thank her once he got there. She half-heartedly prepared herself for the bitching that was going to happen once they were pigging out.

None of it happened, though. He did come to pick her up, of course, warm smile she suspected wasn’t really for her on his face. Carlton looked, quite appropriately, like a kid on Christmas morning: it was downright creepy.

“So, how have you been?,” she asked him. She sort of wanted to add ‘miss me much?’, but she bit her tongue.

“It’s been- good, actually,” he told her truthfully. “I got the Chief to let me back to work after just two days (he’d been practically forced to take some vacation days, just so the department could take a break from him), and so far there’ve been two robberies. I’m sorry you had to miss them.”

It could have stopped at that, he commiserating and she almost as excited as envious while she heard the stories. It didn’t.

“Oh, and remember Lena? From the pub, that day? We’ve been, sort of, I guess— We’ve been dating.” He eyed her warily, as if afraid of her reaction. Juliet forced herself to smile with a little too much enthusiasm.

They picked up some food on the way. He told her about Lena, enough details that Juliet could once more confirm that she sounded highly suspicious. She’d apparently loved the dead clown story, he said excitedly; she’d laughed so hard she’d almost cried.

“Nobody likes that story, Carlton.”

He pouted a bit at that. He did that a lot in front of Juliet, ever since the dinosaur and the dead guy; it made her proud, having him trust her so much that he’d willingly show her other emotions than just anger and disdain. He also carried on about Lena as if she’d said nothing at all.

Carlton dropped Juliet off at home, Chinese takeout in hand, and drove back to his own place with enough food for two. Jules took off her shoes, let her suitcase fall to the floor, and proceeded to eat the whole box of General Tso’s without breathing.

***

She put Shawn on the case as soon as she got back to work. It took some bribing, along with the promise of getting him out of his weekly dinner with his dad, but he finally accepted.

“I’m pretty sure you’re just jea—” Gus’s elbow kept him from saying something he was going to regret. Juliet glared at him, and he shrugged. “Fine. Just ignore the J-word. Still, the girl looks nice. Also, Lassie hasn’t once kicked me out of here ever since she appeared. I say we can live with her being a serial killer, as long as she keeps it up.”

Lena did indeed look nice, Juliet discovered. Shockingly so: she was polite, and funny, and looked great whenever she wasn’t wearing a suit even though she probably hadn’t had to spend two whole weeks being fed nothing but kale. Juliet couldn’t help but gloomily contemplate the fact that she’d probably look even better with no clothes on.

She caught her partner’s gaze on more than one occasion. They were on a sort of not-really-double-date. Shawn, always the gentleman, had offered to come with her as long as there was free food. He’d also said he’d take the chance to look into the suspicious suspicions Jules was starting to forget in favor of actually finding the girl -woman; she wasn’t as young as she’d first thought- _nice_.

Carlton was anxious. He had a tense smile on, was drinking a bit too much, and kept fiddling with his cuffs. Juliet had the strongest urge to either hug him or hit him; so she did neither, instead smiling encouragingly. He did seem to breathe a bit more easily after that: even more so when Shawn took Lena away -possibly to investigate whether her dance skills were those of a Replicant- and they were left alone for a while.

“So, what do you think?” It took Juliet a while to answer that question. Lena had been all over Carlton so far, laughing at all his badly-timed jokes, drinking up his every word, looking up at him adoringly and touching him at every chance. It was sweet, really, though a treacherous part of her was sort of weighing the pros and cons of strangling her. Finally, she settled for a smile.

“I’m really happy for you,” she managed. It didn’t even feel like a lie.

Once they left, Shawn tipped over her carefully managed balance with just a few words.

“She’s definitely up to something.”

***

He was right, of course. Lena turned out to be Elena Ramírez, from Coal Creek, WV. She’d been hired by the Cinco Reyes gang to find out more about the SBPD’s investigations, but she broke down under pressure and ratted them all out.

Carlton insisted on questioning her himself. Chief Vick was luckily firm enough - it could have thrown the entire case out of court, if it were found out. Still, she allowed him to talk to her, and Juliet stood on the other side of the one-way mirror while her partner went in to face the woman who’d broken his heart - again -, and for a second felt something akin to triumph.

“Sorry about all this,” she heard Lena say. She watched Carlton’s reactions closely: he remained still, his face contorting in all the minute ways that gave away how much pain he was in to those who knew him best. He was way more expressive than he realized.

The woman on the inside must have noticed, too, for she looked truly regretful when she spoke again. “Look, Carlton, you really are a great guy. I just wish— I wish we’d met in different circumstances.”

“Wouldn’t have worked anyway,” he lied. He’d closed off, voice gruff and low to keep it from breaking. “I don’t date criminals.”

A small, sad smile danced on Lena’s lips. Her green eyes never leaving Carlton’s, she answered. “Nor I men. Still, I’m sort of glad I met you. Good luck.”

When he left, took a couple of days off, Juliet had to fight the urge to go down into the cells and slap the other woman silly. She’d just _known_ there was something wrong with her, she thought. Lena was, in Juliet’s mind, heartless: she had to be, to be able to hurt Carlton so much and still go on living.

For a moment, Juliet O’Hara thought of starting her very own shit list, just for people like her.

***

“So, how is he doing?” The only answer Juliet could give Shawn was a shrug. She’d been trying to reach Carlton for two days; the best she'd got had been a curt “I’m fine” text she’d stared at for almost half an hour.

“He’ll be fine,” she said at last. Gus nodded in agreement. “He’s tough.”

Shawn took a sip out of his smoothie and eyed Juliet’s plate lustfully. She wasn’t even sure how one could stare at food with _lust_ , but he managed to make the feeling absolutely clear without saying a word. It made her uncomfortable enough to stop eating, which in turn meant that Shawn himself could take care of the last of her burrito. Huh. Maybe that had been the idea from the beginning. Shawn was devious like that.

“Still,” the psychic continued around a mouthful of burrito, “it kind of worries me. Lassie’s heart may be tiny and well-hidden, but it’s a mushy, frail little thing.” 

Gus snorted. “Right.”

They finished eating without much talking. Only afterwards, sated and a bit sleepy, did Juliet breach the topic again.

“I mean, I just _knew_ there was something off about her.” Both men nodded, Gus with more conviction than Shawn. She eyed him questioningly: he hadn’t even met Lena.

“Well, she was willing to date Lassiter,” he excused himself. “I’d have been more worried if there hadn’t been an ulterior motive, to be honest.”

His comment wasn’t exactly as well-received as he’d probably expected. Juliet shoved him lightly.

“That’s just stupid. Carlton’s a good catch.” This time, both men snorted, though it was Gus again the one without a self-preservation instinct. 

“Come on, son! Jules, the man’s scary as hell. I’m pretty sure he’s killed more than once—”

“He hasn’t!”

“— and also he’s pretty weird, you know.” He seemed to belatedly realize who he was talking to, and he quickly backtracked a little. “Not that he’s not a, a wonderful— a human being, I mean: he is. And he probably has a lot of qualities I just can’t appreciate. He probably knows how to hide bodies, or—”

“He doesn't.” Which was a big, fat lie. Carlton most definitely knew how to hide a body: he’d offered to do that for her that one time a guy named Mitch had broken her heart. Still, it was _not_ the point.

She realized she was getting a bit flustered, though, so she toned it down, only muttering ‘he’s not a killer’ under her breath. Gus looked unconvinced. Shawn, on the other hand, was looking at her as if she’d just sprouted a new head. Juliet didn’t like that one bit.

“How do you know that?,” he asked. She frowned.

“I just know. I’m her partner: I know those things.”

Something ominous quickly crossed Shawn’s eyes; something that made his face break into a shit-eating grin and his whole body to shake almost imperceptibly. He looked _satisfied_ , and it was worrying, to say the least.

“So, you’d say you know him pretty well, right?” Ignoring Gus’s questioning looks, he moved closer to Juliet. She gulped, but nodded.

“I’d say so, yeah.”

“And, what other interesting facts do you happen to know about Lassilicious? Favourite music? Number of toes? I’m pretty sure it’s ten, you know, but you can never be sure.” He made a pause, licked his lips before looking her directly in the eye. “Do you know if he also likes men?”

Her face pretty much betrayed her, late-night confessions slipping to mind, painstakingly dug up facts and events just showing in her eyes before she even had the presence of mind to turn away.

Shawn took it as a victory.

“I knew it!”

“Why do you suddenly care?” Through her smoothie-addled brain ran a bunch of random pictures - Shawn sitting on Lassiter’s lap, touching his face, squeezing his shoulder, asking for a hug. They made her even more nervous: seeing the psychic’s devious expression didn’t help.

“It’s not so sudden,” she heard him say. Next to them, Gus’s face was growing more and more horrified as realization sank in. “See, it’s like this: I didn’t want to admit it, because you know I’m a bit emotionally stunted. But, when I first saw Lassie with that woman—”

“Shawn, what the—?”

“Not now, Gus. As I was saying: I saw them together, and I wanted to be happy, I really did. For them. She looked nice and all that, you know; but I wasn’t.” Juliet felt her own stomach start to clench, dread setting in. She hadn’t been happy, either. But it’d been because, well, she _had_ to take care of Carlton. He was her partner, after all.

Besides, interoffice romance always blew up in everyone’s faces.

Not even knowing where that last thought had sprung up from, she let herself get wrapped up in Shawn’s speech as uneasiness grew in her. 

“Honestly, I think I was hiding it pretty well. Being supportive and all that; I even told him she was _hot_ . Which she totally is. But, when you asked me to investigate,” he pointed at Juliet,” I couldn’t resist. Sure, I put up a fight, but I was just _dying to do it_ . I mean, a normal, sane _friend_ would’ve never done that, don’t you think?”

“And, really, remember when I told you I thought you were jealous?” he continued. “Well, I may have been deflecting. Because, you know, when you start to really think about it, when you factor in things like the harmless flirting over the years, you can only reach one conclusion. And I did. I can see it, all the little things, in a new light.”

All the little things, she thought. Her insistence on celebrating his birthday; they way she’d learned how he took his coffee, what his favourite orders at his favourite restaurants were. How she couldn’t stand the thought of ever being transferred because she just happened to love Santa Barbara so much. 

“So, if my information is correct; which it is, because you’re my source, Jules, and you know him better than anyone and would never do anything to actually _hurt him_ ; that is, if my information is correct, I think it’s time I finally grow a pair. Because it’s going to happen again. There’ll be another Lena, you know. Maybe soon. I can’t allow that to happen.”

He stood up, suddenly determined, and put a hand on Juliet’s shoulder. “Thank you, Jules. And give me your blessings: I’m gonna go get myself a Lassie for Saint Valentine’s Day.”

She felt her mouth go dry, froze at the thought of ever opening it. But you’d be _terrible_ for him, she wanted to say; she didn’t. She could just nod, dumbstruck, and watch as Shawn dragged an equally shocked Gus out of the restaurant. That they left her with the bill was, honestly, the least of her problems.

***

“Man, what was all _that_ about?” Gus’s whisper-screaming was a little more high-pitched than it suited him. Shawn let out a chuckle as his best friend grabbed him and forced him to turn so that they were facing each other. “What the hell, Shawn? Please tell me you’re not— you’re not _in love_ with Lassiter. I didn’t even know you liked men!”

The psychic shrugged, and with a malevolent glint in his eyes patted his best friend on the shoulder. 

“Gus, Gus, Gus. My poor, dear, innocent Gus. You’re far too easily tricked: you should know better than that by now. I’m an evil genius, with an evil plan. Well, not evil, per se, but a plan. A plot. A scheme. And the fish has just baited the bit.”

“Bit the— Whatever. Why do I even bother?” Gus was visibly relieved anyway, even if he didn’t exactly know what his very best friend in the world was up to. Which, of course, would simply not stand.

“Besides, everybody knows I’m into younger, more round-headed men. Which reminds me—”

The horrified shriek that followed could be heard in half of Santa Barbara.

***

All in all, Carlton took four full days off to wallow in his misery.

On the third day, Juliet decided to go to his apartment herself, not exactly sure of what she was expecting. She had to wait for him to come back from wherever he’d gone to; she’d been at his door for nearly twenty minutes when she saw him get there, a brown bag full of fresh veggies in his arms. He frowned at her before opening the door, not even bothering to ask her what she was doing there, and waved her in.

It was the third house she’d known him to live in. All of them had been different — all of them, though, had had something that was unmistakably his. 

To be fair, she’d only seen the first one a couple of times, one of them right after she’d guiltily helped him pack, right after the whole birthday fiasco. She’d been expecting screaming, which she’d got plenty of; what she hadn’t been prepared for had been the cold, simmering hatred, not nearly enough of it directed at her. Just like right now, when Lena’s name wasn’t even mentioned more than a couple of times, while life itself was spoken of with contempt -at first - and absolute derision -after a glass of scotch.

Carlton didn’t look nearly as bad as she’d feared, though she still couldn’t help but fuss over him, for which she was rewarded with a rare, grateful smile and a brief glint of happiness. She remembered Shawn then, caught herself leaning on to Carlton, and stopped herself in time. He didn’t even flinch, which was good: she really couldn’t afford this.

The thing is, Juliet O’Hara had a big problem when it came to romance. Well, she had several: she had a thing for older men _and_ uniforms, found North Carolina’s accent quite sexy, and would kill to go back in time so she could be with a young DiMaggio. But the thing that worried her the most at this time was that she tended to fall, and to fall hard, for her friends. She’d done that with Scott, she’d been _this close_ to falling for Shawn; and, as she realized while sitting on his couch listening to him bitch about everything _but_ another woman, she was now utterly, stupidly in love with Carlton Lassiter. Who was her partner, and very rude, and knew how to hide a body and would also absolutely do it for her if she asked him to. 

This would definitely blow up in her face. 

Not even thinking about what she was doing, she stood up and excused herself, leaving Carlton mid-rant as she ran away from his home and into the safety of her own car. She didn’t even realize she’d left her jacket at his place until he brought it to the office two days later.

By then, she’d already firmly decided not to let her little crush get out of hand. Then she’d convinced herself that love could conquer all, and that she should give it a chance. Later, she’d remembered Carlton’s own words to her, once - that all love ends in despair - before promptly telling herself that she’d never know if she didn’t try.

By the time Carlton strolled into the station, very carefully not meeting the pitying looks of those who knew about Lena, Juliet had let the fear of screwing everything up overtake her. She called it common sense, and it told her that he considered her a friend, that she’d have to transfer just so nobody could say she was screwing her way to the top; that it wasn’t even worth trying. And then he left her jacket on her desk without a word and proceeded to ignore her conscientiously, and she suddenly felt like crying. Which she obviously didn’t do.

Other than her own inner turmoil, the morning went by in an obnoxiously quiet way. There were no new cases, paperwork was piling up, and the couple of times she went to get coffee both for herself and for Carlton he made titanic efforts not to acknowledge her in any way.

Things went downhill around lunch time.

When he skipped in, Shawn was wearing an obscene amount of cologne, a pair of tight jeans - he did have a nice ass - and a button-up he’d taken the pains to actually iron, possibly even wash. He smiled brightly at everyone and winked at her before purposefully walking up to Lassiter’s desk. Internally, Juliet smirked: today wasn’t the day.

As expected, Carlton’s response wasn’t exactly positive. He all but threw the psychic out, only stopping himself at the very last moment from actually punching him. Still, Shawn’s smile grew wider, and he leaned in to whisper something in the older man’s ear that made the detective blush. Then, he went away.

On his second day back, Carlton Lassiter agreed to have lunch with Shawn Spencer.

He’d slowly started talking to Juliet again the evening before. Not that he’d said much, but he’d at least thanked her for the sixth cup of coffee, and had even made an offhand comment about something or other. It was _progress_.

It wasn’t exactly painful to see him get out of the station with a dolled-up Shawn, who was wearing enough hair gel to be transformed into Son Goku (Santa Barbara Edition). But it was still upsetting enough that she didn’t even question herself when she discovered that she’d stood up, grabbed her purse and made a run for it.

Okay, Juliet. Maybe you’re not going to do anything about Carlton, but you’re surely _not_ letting Shawn run wild with this. That’d be a trainwreck: they’re supposed to be your friends.

So, in order to preserve both her friends’ limbs and innards intact, she followed them. Quietly, sneaking about as if she were tailing a suspect; she was discreetly peering when they stopped in front of a large, disgusting-looking food truck, and could only watch in shock as Shawn whispered something in Carlton’s ear again. It seemed to make the older man nervous; the psychic’s hand sneaking about to grab his ass, though, only made him jump slightly. Pursing her lips, she debated going up to them, feigning innocence, and taking Carlton away before he did something he’d regret for the rest of his life. That, or pulling out all of Shawn’s hair. Maybe it wouldn’t be as effective, but it’d surely be satisfying.

Before she could move, though, somebody called out to her.

“Jules!” Dressed in oddly dark clothes, Burton Guster gestured for her to come with him. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, what are _you_ doing here?,” she snapped, feeling defensive. He raised his hands in a surrendering gesture.

“Fair enough. I followed Shawn.” He gulped. “We’ve got to stop that from happening.”

If she hadn’t been so preoccupied with her own confusing, annoying feelings, she might have noticed Gus’s stiffness, the way he wouldn’t meet her eyes. As it was, she couldn’t really tear her eyes off the two men standing only a few feet away. Shawn had somehow convinced Carlton to buy him some hugely unhealthy food, and was talking to the older man in a way that had him unnaturally still, drinking up the psychic’s every word. She bit her lip, balled her fists, and nodded. 

“You’re right,” she said. And then, with no warning, she started walking towards them, a reticent Gus at her heels.

***

All through her life, Juliet O’Hara had been relying on her carefully balanced combination of cunning and charm. She could smile her way into almost anything, suffocate a perp with niceness until they all but begged to confess, and had once memorably been able to get a year of free Internet access from an unsuspecting telemarketer. But she had to admit it: when compared to one Shawn Spencer, she was an amateur.

She’d prepared her best battle smile, the one she’d only had to use once with Josh’s wife before she opted out of making her wear a frilly, lace-ridden bridesmaid’s dress at their wedding. 

Shawn was ready for her.

“Jules!” His smile was miles wider than hers. Also, he used a disarming hug that he made sure to hold for a little longer than necessary. “And Gus! So great to see you!”

She did her best to return the hug, but she’d already lost that battle by the time Shawn offered her a bite out of his bacon-wrapped burrito con queso. 

Neither Gus nor Carlton seemed to notice anything going on between the other two, though. Her partner was looking at her intently, brow furrowed in question: he seemed about to ask about her presence here, but Shawn’s hand was faster, sneaking up to pause at his chest and lightly stroke over his shirt before undoing a button. Something deeply primal twisted inside Juliet: she _did_ love Shawn, almost like a brother, but at that very moment she was more than willing to strangle him. Maybe finally take up Carlton’s offering to help her hide her victims.

“So, really, it’s great to see you two, but Lassie and I have, uhm, things to discuss.” The psychic had the gall to wink at her. Conspiratorially. As if she were in in all of this and hadn’t come all the way there just to get his stupid face away from _her_ Carlton.

Uh-oh.

Too dumbstruck by her own inner monologue to move, she was too slow to stop the two men from waving a quick goodbye and turning. Shawn was almost dragging Lassiter, who kept stammering about something or other while uncharacteristically letting himself be manhandled. By the time Juliet recovered, they were already walking down and away from her.

From them, she reminded herself, eyeing Gus.

Whenever you were out to take down a gang, or a group of criminals of any kind, you always started by finding out the weak link. They tended to out themselves even if they hadn’t been previously spotted: they got nervous, ended up spilling the beans and transforming into a heap of useless clothes and snot and tears back at the station. With the right kind of attitude, she didn’t even need to interrogate them: they came crawling up to her, begging to confess to something a much smarter, much more devious mind had dragged them into.

For the first time, she took notice of Gus’s discomfort. Of his very suspicious standing: if he’d really been following Shawn, if he’d really been trying to prevent that Earth-shattering disaster that was the psychic barging into Carlton’s life and thoroughly stomping on his feelings, he’d look _different_. Not so guilty, probably, and definitely not as shitscared of her as he was.

“Gus?,” she asked sweetly. Her prior smile still hadn’t waned: she reinforced it, made sure to add a bit of a sing-song to her voice. The man next to her shivered.

“Uhm, yeah?”

Putting her hand on his shoulder, she made the man turn until he was facing her. His eyes were already wet, his lips puckering and trembling. This was going to make her feel like a bully.

Not that she completely despised that feeling.

“Gus, I think there’s something you want to tell me, isn’t it?”

He deflated. 

“Alright. I told Shawn this wasn’t a good idea. I promise I did. I’m your friend, Jules, I swear! But he said you had a thing for Lassie, and that he had this plan, and I was supposed to intercept you and let him talk Lassiter into—”

She had heard more than enough. To be honest, she’d heard more than enough by the time he’d said the word ‘plan’. With a frown and a finger to his lips, she shut him up.

“Where are they now?” She knew what he was seeing in her. Vengeance, thy name is Juliet O’Hara. 

So Shawn had not only known about her — little _crush_ , but also thought he could be faster. So he already had the advantage, had everything planned out and was probably celebrating, trapping Carlton and talking him into— well, there were many things she could finish that thought with, none of which were pleasant for her to picture. So what. 

She’d found the weak link.

“I guess they’ll be at Psych. He told me he had—”

She grinned. “Perfect.”

***

Juliet made Gus open the door to the Psych office quietly, the malevolent glint in her eye more than enough to keep him from complaining. She then all but ordered the man to scatter: she’d deal with his friend on her own.

Not one to waste a chance such as that, Gus ran away to safety.

“Alright, Juliet: you can do this.”

The uneasiness crept up unannounced. It settled behind her ribs, pressing a bit on her lungs, making her think that maybe, _maybe_ , she wasn’t quite thinking straight. That perhaps she’d find them kissing, or worse; that she’d had like a million chances. Lassiter knew how her hair smelled, for god’s sake: she could have jumped him right then, and he’d have done just about anything she’d asked him. That she’d blown it, and was now clearly trying to sabotage her _friends_. That wasn’t cool, she told herself as she was walking in. She may be— She may have just recently realized that she had, felt, something for Lassiter. Still, it didn’t give her the right to meddle, to go and ruin what could be a beautiful— thing.

Gosh, who was she kidding. Friend or not, she was more than ready to disembowel Shawn if push came to shove. If she was careful, she could even pin it on Gus.

They were both sitting on the couch when she got in, Carlton looking way less at ease than he’d seemed just half an hour before. Shawn was the first to see her, his eyes widening while he quickly checked on his watch. He promptly stood, startling the older man; when he noticed Juliet, Lassiter grew tense, a weird noise leaving his throat. She forced herself to step forward anyway, up until she was facing the still way too confident psychic.

“Well, Jules. You’re—”

“Cut it, will you?,” she snapped. “Gus told me about your stupid plan.”

At that, Shawn blanched a little. Gulping, he turned to Lassiter discreetly; the older man’s eyes were suddenly bulging, as if in panic. Juliet pretended not to see it, tried not to wonder about whether she was making a fool of herself, and pressed on.

“So you know.” For once, Shawn seemed not to have the perfect answer, no witty retort at the ready. Still, he went for a disinterested look, breathing more shallow than he probably realized. “Damned Gus. And you’re not— happy about it?”

She thought about hitting him. Slapping him. Hard.

“Happy,” she repeated, her tone a perfect deadpan that somehow didn’t manage to hide the hurt and the anger boiling inside her. Because he knew. He’d known even before she did, and he’d still felt the need to go and try to get Carlton to, to _choose him over her_ , rub it in her face, had the gall to call it a ‘plan’. As if it was just a big, dumb game.

She could’ve punched him right there. Or, you know, she could’ve hit herself. Damn stubbornness, damn pride that had led her here. “How exactly did you think I’d be _happy_ about this? I mean, is your brain even on!?”

By the end she was almost shouting: a pitiful show, she was sure. Like a child throwing a tantrum because someone was looking at that toy she’d forced herself not to pay attention to. 

It took everything she had not to break down completely: she fell silent, panting a bit, staring at Shawn with eyes so big and full of betrayal that the psychic almost looked human, hurt, for a change.

“Alright. I’m sorry, Jules. I screwed up, then. But I was so sure—”

“Shawn.” Lassiter’s voice interrupted him as the older man tugged at Shawn’s arm, taking the other’s place. For about a second, Juliet didn’t find the strength to look up at him. When she did, though, she found him staring back, blue eyes filled with worry and a slight pain she knew he was forcing himself not to show. “O’Hara, it’s my fault. Look, I— I know it’s childish. And, when Spencer told me about it, I should’ve said no. I mean, god knows I’ve been toyed with enough. I should’ve known better.” He sighed, rubbed a hand over his forehead in a gesture she couldn’t help but find adorable.

Shit. She was absolutely losing it.

“So, if you want to blame someone, it’s me. And, if you’d like a new partner after this, if you want me to transfer, just—”

Through her rage and self-pity, a shapeless thought started to show. It turned itself into a word, and then a sentence, and then shot itself out of Juliet’s mouth without her permission.

“What the hell are you talking about, Carlton?”

And that right there was the point of inflection. It made her partner frown, sent her brain cells into a frantic search for something, anything, to make sense of it all; and, more worryingly, made Shawn lose his guilty expression and go back to _smirking_.

“So, Jules, what exactly did good old Gus confess to?” Still dazzled and emotionally shaken, she pursed her lips, eyeing Carlton warily before answering.

“He told me about your plan. Well, he didn’t: you told me about it the other day. But he said you knew—” She breathed in, unsure as whether it was a good idea to confess to _that_ bit. But, well, she told herself: she was already in too deep. Whatever. “About me, liking— Shit. Lassiter. Carlton. I think I sort of— like you. Or, you know. Maybe more. And it’s fine: you don’t have to say—”

So he didn’t.

She didn’t get to finish the sentence. As if he’d been waiting for her to say exactly that his entire life, Carlton Lassiter took the chance to kiss her, lips and teeth and tongue, clumsy and desperate and so, so right.

When he broke away, she kept staring, gasping, croaking out something that could’ve been a question but wasn’t even a word. Carlton blushed, his ears going red before it spread to the rest of his face, and she couldn’t help but laugh before grabbing him by the back of the neck and, still giggling, returning the favour.

A noise next to them broke this second kiss. Looking smug and self-satisfied once again, Shawn extended his hand in front of Juliet. Hesitant, Carlton shook it.

“Alf’s well ends in hell, Lassie. Told you.” The older man gave out a noncommittal grunt. Juliet frowned. 

“What do you mean? You’re just—?” Happy. He was happy, almost as much as she felt, to be honest, and her not-quite-working-yet brain dug up all the information a nervous Gus had given her. Shawn had known: he’d known pretty early on, she thought. But the other man had never said anything about his friend wanting to— “Oh, shit. You set us up!”  
He grinned even more widely, his face almost split in two.

“Of course, my dear Juliet! Lassafrass here is too much of a wimp; I mean, a gentleman, to ask you out!”

“Spencer!” Ignoring the warning, he continued.

“So, I thought I’d give you two a push. I mean, I’m sort of used to Mr Grumpypants over here, but you, Jules? You were going to smother that poor backstabbing criminal in her sleep, and I can’t get mani-pedis in jail, you know.”

Juliet felt herself blush, more so when Carlton looked at her questioningly.

“Lena? You—?” She shrugged and, finally giving up, nodded.

“Not that I— I mean, I would’ve been happy for you. I guess. In the end.” But Carlton smiled at her, and instead of finishing her poor excuse, she rose on the balls of her feet to plant a new kiss on his lips. It felt good: more so when he reciprocated. She could get used to this.

“Guys, come on! I’m in the middle of a reveal!”

With a smirk, Carlton broke away from her to direct his attention to Shawn. “Oh, you can proceed, Spencer. I’m dying to know how this one ends.”

Shawn did look vaguely offended, but it wasn’t enough to shut him up.

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, I devised an ingenious yet fairly simple plan to fix your sad sad mood. I told Lassie I could actually help him get the girl —that’s you, Jules— after all this time, even if he was still creepy and scary and somehow thought a dead clown is an excellent subject for a first date.”

“Hey! There’s nothing wrong with—”

“It _is_ a bit weird, Carlton. Sorry.” Turning to face Shawn, unconsciously sliding her hand into Carlton’s, Juliet frowned. “So, you were never interested in him?”

Shawn’s smile froze, and Juliet braced herself for the answer, feeling something grow heavy in her stomach. But he just shook his head.

“Are you kidding? I mean, I know our Head Detective has that strong, manly man, sexy thing going on, but,” And he made a pretty obscene gesture, “he’s lacking in certain departments. Also, no boobs: that’s a deal breaker. Sorry, man.”

Rolling his eyes, Carlton pretended to be badly hurt by those words. To be honest, he was a pretty crappy actor.

“I think I’ll live.”


End file.
